


Right as Sand

by Saetha



Series: O Swallow, have mercy on them [Febuwhump 2021 Prompt Fills] [7]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, FebuWhump2021, Happy Ending, Hurt Cobb Vanth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Poisoning, Whump, brief mention of vomiting, no beta we die like krayt dragons slain by gay space cowboy husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: “Open your eyes,” he says, and hates how fragile his voice sounds, how frightened and insecure. He should be worried about Cobb, not about whether fate will strike him down for this one gesture.“You sure?” Even now Cobb knows of the significance of what is happening, is trying to spare him pain.“Yes,” Din whispers, fingers still caressing Cobb’s cheek. “Look at me.”*Cobb has been poisoned. Din has to watch him waste away, unable to do much. But, at least, he can finally let him see his face before it might be too late in this race against time.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Series: O Swallow, have mercy on them [Febuwhump 2021 Prompt Fills] [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138178
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Right as Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/gifts).



> More MarshMando! I love them so much. A surprise gift for the wonderful [intricatecakes](https://intricatecakes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr who is my source for all the MarshMando love. Thank you for brightening my dash! Also, go check out her Mandalorian art, it's BREATHTAKING. 
> 
> The prompt for today was: Poisoning.

It begins innocently enough, with an invitation for dinner in the bar that Din declines and Cobb accepts. Din has promised the Tuskens to oversee a trade exchange between them and a neighbouring settlement that night, the first in what is hopefully going to be many. Cobb has always maintained that Din’s cooking is better than his own, and why not sit down for an evening in the bar? Especially now that he spends a markedly increased amount of time at home with Din, as he remarks with a wink. You need to keep old friendships warm, after all.

When Din returns the next morning, he finds their house remarkably quiet. Usually, Cobb is up early and tinkering with this or that if he’s at home. Their door is unlocked, so he must be here, but he isn’t in the garage. Din frowns under his helmet, a quiet feeling of unease spreading in his stomach. He has been a Mandalorian and bounty hunter for too long to ignore his gut and instinctively grips his blaster more tightly. It is only when he enters the kitchen that he can hear the sounds of quiet retching from their bathroom.

“Din? That you?” Cobb is shivering when Din walks up to him, raising a hand to signal him to stay away before he bends back over.

“Do you need help?” Din frowns.

“M’ okay,” he replies. “Probably just ate something bad last night. I’ll be right as sand come evening, just wait and see.”

He isn’t. 

The retching turns into cramps. Cramps turn into shivers that soon rack his entire body, into chills that take turns with bouts of fever so hot that Din thinks he will burn himself on Cobb’s skin, a skin that is now ashen and grey. Mos Pelgo doesn’t really have a doctor or supplies to be able to treat anything this serious, but Din doesn’t need a doctor to tell him what’s wrong with his partner, because he has seen it happening more than once before. Cobb has been poisoned, and if Din had to lay the blame at someone’s feet, it would be the mining consortium that is still greedy for this place, especially now that the krayt dragon is gone. Din would go and kill them all himself if he wasn’t so scared.

“Din.” Cobb is shivering again, unable to still the tremors that wrack his limbs. Din catches one of his hands in his own, tries to soothe him, rubs his thumb over the far too cold skin. The Tusken next to him gives a quiet grunt. Cobb had been unhappy when it turned out that the closest thing they had to a doctor was the Tusken from the delegation that Din spent the previous night with. Privately, Din is of the opinion that they are more than lucky to have had the old Tusken healer nearby. Without their help, Cobb might be gone already.

“I’m here,” Din says, and he hates how the helmet eats the emotions out of his voice, leaves it far too flat to provide the comfort he wants. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“Not quite right as sand, am I.” Cobb attempts a tired grin, but immediately breaks out into another coughing fit, threatening to bring what little water he has been able to keep down back up again.

“Shhh.” Din helps him to sit up until his cough quietens, rubs soothing circles over his back. Cobb’s entire frame feels far too thin and fragile under his hands, as if he could break apart at any moment. He takes one of the cups from the bedside table. The tea inside, made by the Tusken healer, seems to have helped at least somewhat. “Here, try to drink some more.”

They don’t know what the poison was so trying to guess at an antidote is meaningless. It’s none of the ones common on Tatooine at least, or the Tusken healer would have known. But there are thousands of poisons out there in the universe. He’s sent one of the local residents out to Mos Eisley not half an hour ago, to bring the doctors with every antidote they have, but it is unlikely they will show before the next morning. Din turns to the Tusken healer.

 _Is there nothing else I can do to help him?_ he signs.

The Tusken looks at him, then back at Cobb. When they raise their hands, their words turn Din’s insides to ice. _The marshal will need a miracle to survive the night. There is nothing else I can do. Try and make him as comfortable as you can._ A moment of hesitation, before they continue. _I am sorry_.

 _Thank you. You did your best._ He doesn’t have the strength for more signs. The Tusken nods at him before he begins to gather his things, quietly exiting the room and leaving them alone.

“I can’t see your expression, but from my meagre knowledge of their language, I’m guessing that wasn’t positive.” Cobb’s voice is still barely more than a rasp, but he gives Din’s hand a weak squeeze.

“No, no it wasn’t.” Din loves the man in front of him far too much to ever lie to him, even now. His own voice is almost as hoarse as Cobb’s.

“How bad?” Cobb wants to know, just as another shudder runs through him, forcing him to clench his eyes shut and stifle a scream. Din wants so desperately to hold him, to tell him that it will all be better soon, that he will be safe and shouldn’t worry. He would take his pain away, even if it meant shouldering all of it himself. He reaches out, tries to brush Cobb’s shoulder soothingly, but Cobb curls up with a gasp and this time he _does_ scream as the poison wreaks havoc on his body.

It is then that Din realises with an absolute, bone-deep terror that Cobb is dying, that when the next morning comes, Cobb Vanth will be gone, and he will be alone. The realisation makes his own hands shake so strongly that he can barely hold Cobb and pry his mouth open for another one of the Tusken doctor’s draughts. He rubs his fingers over Cobb’s chin, gently massages his throat to force him to swallow the concoction until he finally, finally quiets a little.

“Bad,” Din forces out, past the lump that has settled in his throat. “Really bad.” Cobb just looks at him, probably doesn’t even remember his earlier question anymore.

“We’ll have a doctor here by tomorrow. With an antidote perhaps, even. Just. You need to hang on, you hear me?” Din has Cobb’s face cradled in his hands by now, tries to will every single bit of his own strength into him. Cobb’s skin has gone from icy cold to fever hot again, burning away under the touch of Din’s fingers.

“I’ll be fine,” Cobb mumbles, reaching up to put his fingers over Din’s. “Just fine. Stop worrying.” Din feels like he wants to cry then, wants to scream out his frustration and rage, let it burst from him in a wave of anguish and wailing. Of course, he does nothing of the sort, just traces Cobb’s cheek bone with thumb. He doesn’t even have the energy to answer within him. Cobb tenses up again, but this time he doesn’t go into another fit, much to Din’s relief.

The suns are setting outside, casting everything into a golden shadow, painting a cruel illusion of vitality on Cobb’s skin. His eyes are closed, his breathing unbearably shallow, although he still replies with soft noises to everything that Din says. Din feels like he is caught in a nightmare, time stretching and contracting around him. He wants nothing more than to wake up in their bed, turn over to his side and see Cobb snoring softly with that peaceful expression on his face that he always wears in his sleep.

But he won’t.

Din’s hands are still shaking when he takes them away from where their fingers are intertwined, Cobb protesting with a weak noise when he withdraws his touch. Din murmurs an apology and takes a deep breath. His hands won’t stop trembling when he puts them to the sides of his helmet and pulls it off, sets it to the ground next to his chair.

The scent of the tea the Tusken doctor had left them with is even stronger to his nose now, as is the stench of sickness in the air. Din swallows and places his palms on Cobb’s face, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Cobb murmurs sleepily, a frown appearing on his face. Din can see the urge to look reflected in his expression, but even now, Cobb makes good on the promise he gave him, right at the beginning – that he would never attempt to steal a look, would never violate the trust that Din has placed in him.

Din runs his fingers over the sharp bones of his cheek, the rough stubble below, the line of his chin. He clears his throat, loud enough for Cobb to hear.

“Open your eyes,” he says, and hates how fragile his voice sounds, how frightened and insecure. He should be worried about Cobb, not about whether fate will strike him down for this one gesture.

“You sure?” Even now Cobb knows of the significance of what is happening, is trying to spare him pain.

“Yes,” Din whispers, fingers still caressing Cobb’s cheek. “Look at me.”

Cobb does as he has been asked, and for a moment, his breath seems to catch in his throat. He reaches out, too weak to lift his hands all the way, but Din catches his hand with his fingers, guides it to his face. Cobb runs his fingers over the tapestry of Din’s skin, around his ear, own his chin, over his lip and nose and eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “But I always knew that.”

Din smiles, his fingers remaining firmly intertwined with Cobb’s as the travel across his face. Cobb has read him like this many times before, but never with the help of his eyes, and there is a soft light shining in them now, eclipsing, for just one moment, the pallor of sickness.

“Flatterer,” Din tells him, aware of just how much his voice is catching in his throat. He kisses him again, slow and soft.

“Must be even worse than you said if you’re letting me see your face.” The expression in Cobb’s face is difficult to interpret, but it is a far more peaceful one than anything Din is currently feeling inside.

“It is.” Din loves him too much to lie. Cobb deserves his honesty, more than any kind lies he might have to give. “Try to hold on until tomorrow. We’ll have a doctor here then. Just. Don’t give up.” He knows he’s at the stage where he’s babbling.

“And miss an opportunity to catch another look at your beautiful face? Never.”

Din chokes out a little laugh, presses Cobb’s hand against his cheek again.

“I just.” He tries to find the words and fails. Cobb waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts and put them into speech, his laboured breathing the only sound filling the room for a moment.

“It didn’t feel fair,” Din finally whispers. “To let you…to let you leave, without having seen my face.”

“You’re putting me in awkward situation, should I survive.” Cobb laughs, the sound immediately turning into a hacking cough that sends jolts of pain through him. He curls up on his side, every muscle taut as he is trying to breathe. Din holds him as best as he can, knowing the panic that must be written on his face now. Cobb begins to shiver, too weak to even scream, his entire body shaking as if he was no more than a small boy caught in a nightmare. It takes longer to subside, this time, and even then his fingers keep trembling. They are icy cold when Din wraps them in his hands. Din presses a kiss against his knuckles, his voice small and forlorn in his desperation.

“Don’t leave me, you hear me? Please.” _You’re the only one I have left_. Din simply doesn’t know what he would do without him, where he would go. Cobb doesn’t answer and that, in itself, is worse than even the weakest reply could have been.

“I never really told you about Grogu, and everything we went through together, did I.” Din doesn’t really know why he keeps talking – perhaps it’s to give Cobb something to anchor himself to, to pull him back from the brink. Perhaps it’s because the sound of his voice is louder than Cobb’s wheezing breath, seemingly becoming more laboured by the moment. Perhaps it is because this is a story so painful that he hasn’t shared it with anyone yet, hasn’t even dared revisit the happy parts because they are so irrevocably intertwined with the painful ones. Perhaps it’s simply to calm himself down, to break the silence with _something_. Either way, he keeps talking, tells him in detail of all the adventures that he and the Child had been on. He thinks he can hear Cobb chuckle weaky from time to time, but it might just be his imagination.

It is in the middle of the night still, no sign of dawn on the horizon when his thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. Din fumbles, hands heavy and uncoordinated as he puts his helmet back on and heads to the door. To his surprise, he finds Yarena standing there, the woman he had sent to Mos Eisley the previous day, in the company of an unknown Sullustan. Normally, Din would question on why this Sullustan had become a doctor rather than a pilot like most of his brethren, but he is far too worried at the moment. Besides, the universe is a diverse place and everyone should be able to be what they want to be.

“You’re back already?” he asks, unwilling to spend too long on formalities.

“Yes.” Yarena nods at the Sullustan. “We were faster on the way back – Peli Motto heard that you and the Marshal were in trouble and loaned me her fastest vehicle. Made it back in half the time than it would have taken us otherwise. Prrd Ven knows the Marshal, he calls on him whenever we have a more serious illness here. He’s brought every possible antidote with him. Says we might still have a chance.”

“Quickly, then.” Din waves them inside, forgetting, in his haste, to introduce himself to the doctor who appears slightly miffed about his lack of manners. His entire demeanour changes, however, when he sees Cobb lying on the bed, now still and unresponsive and so unlike the man that Din has come to love and want to spend the rest of his life with that it makes a hole open inside his chest.

“We might have been just in time, it seems,” Prrd mumbles quietly, already taking Cobb’s hand in his, beginning to feel his pulse.

“Is he-“ Din doesn’t even want to say the words. Speaking the word out loud gives a reality to it that he isn’t ready to face, not yet.

“He’s still alive.” Prrd isn’t even looking at him, has already begun to rummage in the bag he brought with him. “Although not by much.”

Din is feeling extraordinarily useless right now, watching as Prrd examines Cobb in detail, occasionally asking a few questions to clarify symptoms.

“This should do it,” Prrd finally says, injecting Cobb with what Din presumes is probably the antidote for the poison he has been given. “All we can do now is to wait for it take effect. He should begin to feel better in a few hours. If not, feel free to call again – Yarena has kindly offered her place to stay for the day. Apparently, several people here could benefit from a doctor’s attention.” He leaves a few more instructions with Din, mainly concerning the recovery process – what sort of food Cobb is allowed to eat and when, under which circumstances to call on him again. Din tries his best to follow, but he is only listening with half an ear, most of his attention taken up by Cobb and the way he has just shifted ever so slightly in his pillows.

Din returns to his vigil at Cobb’s bedside when Prrd has left. He hesitates only for a moment before taking off his helmet again. The doctor had mentioned that all that Cobb needs right now is rest and sleep and with that, at least, Din can help. He carefully climbs into bed, turning Cobb to the side and wrapping his arms around him from behind. Cobb mumbles something, but doesn’t wake up, and Din finally drops off into – albeit uneasy – sleep.

*

“So I didn’t dream it.”

Din jerks awake to the sound of Cobb’s voice. The suns are up high in the sky outside, splashing brightness all around their room – including Cobb’s face, still several shades too pale to be exactly healthy, but looking far more alive than it did the previous night. He has turned around and is looking at Din now, one hand hovering not far from his face.

“Dream what?” Din asks, sleepily. It takes him a moment to work through everything – that the previous day indeed hadn’t been a nightmare, that Cobb had almost died, that he is safe and hale and alive and still right _here_ , next to him.

“How beautiful you are.” A grin splits Cobb’s features as he leans forwards to press his forehead against Din’s. “I am allowed to look now, aren’t I?” he suddenly adds, sounding slightly worried.

“You are.” Din brings up his hand, runs his fingers along Cobb’s ear and down his neck, before cupping his cheek in his palm. He smiles, the relief flooding through him making him feel almost giddy. “And I cannot believe that those are the first words you say to me after almost dying. ‘ _How beautiful you are_ ’? Really?”

“That’s because you are.” Cobb kisses him. “I mean, I knew. I could feel it. But to see it, with my own two eyes…I might have forgotten most of what happened yesterday, but this I won’t.”

“Flatterer.” Din leans into another kiss. He doesn’t mind that the kiss tastes more of clammy sweat and the medicine he’d been trying to feed Cobb the previous night than what he usually tastes like, far too glad to have him back in his arms alive.

“Always.” Cobb laughs into the space between them. “So, did you really fight a giant ice spider?”

Din rolls his eyes at the sudden change in topic.

“I thought you said you don’t remember much from last night,” he huffs.

“Oh, I don’t. But I do remember a number of stories where my beloved partner decided to be exceptionally stupid and court death, putting his continued survival into terrible jeopardy,” Cobb teases. “You should tell me those stories again. Just so that I can hear them fully.”

“Later, perhaps.” Din sigh, still unwilling to move his hand away from Cobb’s skin. He is half afraid that this is all a dream, that he will wake up and find Cobb dead in bead next to him. “Enough talk of death, for now. You need sleep.”

“You do, too.” Cobb smiles. “You look terrible.”

Din just snorts, doesn’t even reply.

“Sleep,” he repeats. He watches as Cobb closes his eyes, that small smile still playing around his lips. His breathing soon evens out and Din feels himself getting tired, listening to the rhythm of it. Slow, steady, and undeniably _alive_.


End file.
